


To Heal Her Heart Pt 1 (Legolas/Reader)

by EffervescentAngel



Series: Lord of the Rings/ The Hobbit One Shots [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-26
Updated: 2015-03-26
Packaged: 2018-03-19 16:42:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3616932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EffervescentAngel/pseuds/EffervescentAngel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Imagine Legolas saving you from a bad situation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Heal Her Heart Pt 1 (Legolas/Reader)

 

So this was him. The Elvenprince you had heard of in hushed whispers paired with impish grins since the time you came to Laketown. He came often to negotiate trade for his father King Thranduil, who ruled Mirkwood. You had often hoped to catch a glimpse of him on one of his visits but that had been denied you until now.

 

You came here eleven winters ago when you were just seven years old. You grew up in a small fishing village on the coast. Your father was a fisherman your mother died when you were very young, so you do not remember her well. You and your father did not have much but you were very happy. Until the cullings began.

 

Pirates began coming down from the North when you were but six years of age. Initially they only wanted girls who had come of age, virgins and experienced alike, who would fetch a good price on the auction block. But as the market grew, so did their collections and they became less selective until, one day, when you were playing in a tide pool, you were taken along with the others. You do not remember much of this time in your life. It is too painful. But the months that follow your purchase, you remember with awful clarity.

 

The Master of Laketown had grown increasingly greedy and harder to please. His deputy, Alfrid, was always on the look for ways to please him and, in the process, raise himself to greater wealth and influence. He had begun to run out of ideas when he saw you standing on the platform, so brave despite your young age. Though your hair was matted and your skin was pale with fright, you never shed a tear. He knew, then and there, that _you_ were the key to a secure position for him.

 

He bought you and offered you to the Master as a gift. And the Master delighted in you. For you were so innocent, so young, you didn't know that the scraps of old bread and dried meat were not the best his table had to offer. Your naivete blinded you to many of your abuses, led you to believe that your fate was much the same as other peoples' in the town.

 

This changed the year you turned thirteen. The night he took you for the first time. It was the first time you had eaten with him and though his meal was sumptuous and elegantly prepared, for you there was nothing but a pile of scraps on the floor. He bade you eat and you were too aware of the price of disobedience to protest. So down to the floor you went. Picking at the food trying to pretend gratitude out of fear. Your humiliation seemed to fuel the strange mood he was in. As he ate, he drank, and as he drank, he grew talkative and accused you of ungratefulness for all you had been so graciously given. When you exclaimed that you were indeed very grateful, he demanded you show it. And that evening you learned that no matter how bad things may have seemed before they could always take a turn for the worst.

 

So it was with a mixture of fear and anticipation that you awaited the arrival of the young prince. You had decided that you would at least catch sight of him once. You were not allowed to be seen by men, with the exception of the Master and Alfrid. Alfrid, though forbidden to use you, was allowed to abuse you and he took great delight in your fear, in your pain, in each new bruise that formed. You knew when the Master was vexed with Alfrid for Alfrid would come and find you soon after and kick you around until his legs were tired. Then he would scream about the unfairness of his life, before storming out of the building. You wondered if this prince was any different. If he showed compassion to the people under his care.

 

You were broken from your reverie by the sound of doors opening and shutting and the Master's voice. It was different from any tone you had heard from his thus far. It was simpering and utterly submissive. Pathetic even. This prince must be powerful indeed. Very slowly, you crept up the stairs, taking great care not to touch the squeaky steps. There were many, so it took you a very long time to make your way up the stairs. Once there, you paused a moment to steady your heart. Then, you tiptoed over to slightly open parlor door. You saw the Master and Alfrid serving pastries and apologizing for the lack of better food. Silently, scoffed. There was no better food to be had in all of Laketown.

 

The man sitting across from them was unlike any you had ever seen. He was young, you decided, for his long, pale blonde hair had the lustre of youth. His back was straight and his shoulders were wide, yet there was a grace to the way he sat that made you want to keep staring, though you had yet to see his face. You leaned in, trying to catch a better view--.

 

But you had forgotten that the parlor doors also creaked. Alfrid shot out of his seat. Too late your brain caught up to your racing heart to understand that you had been discovered. The door is yanked open and you tumble into the room. Alfrid stands above you, a nasty twist on his lips that dances on line between a smirk and a snarl.

 

“Well well well, what do we 'ave 'here.”

 

He grabs you by the hair drags you towards the Master, who's face is turning an odd color. You know you will pay dearly for this transgression when the guest has gone. He opens his mouth to speak, no doubt trying to make him leave so he can deal with you, but another voice cuts him off.

 

“You must forgive me, Sir, but I find the hour has grown far later than I had anticipated while enjoying your... incomparable hospitality. I wonder if I might impose upon you still further and spend the night in your lovely home. Mirkwood is a place not to be traveled after nightfall.”

 

The voice is unlike any you have ever heard. It is smooth and light and it calms you, as though you sat on the shore of a quiet sea. Yet there is an authority that rings through it and you have a feeling that he will be granted whatever he desires. Confirming your suspicions, the Master laughs in way that seems slightly hysterical and booms out, a little too loudly, that of course the prince would be welcome to whatever he needed to be comfortable.

 

“Then might I have use of your serving girl for the duration of my stay?”

 

Your head snapped up at that. Your eyes landed on the most beautiful face you had ever seen. Sky-blue eyes rested atop high cheekbones that dropped down to surprisingly soft lips above a sharply defined jawline. You sucked in what you hoped was a soft breath, but judging by his slight smile, he had heard you anyway.

 

The Master spluttered for a moment and you knew that he was desparately searching for a reason to deny him. The Master did not like to share. But the prince merely turned and looked him squarely in the eye. You knew the Master would capitulate. Finally with a sigh and a slightly simpering smile, he told the prince that of _course_ his slave would be more than happy to see to all his needs. You noticed the way he emphasized your status. Your eyes lowered in shame.

 

“Then see she is brought to the guest quarters in time for my supper.” With that, the prince rose and turned to leave the room.

 

But before he gained the door, he looked back and said, “Oh and see to it that she is unharmed. I do not prefer my entertainment traumatized.” then he was gone.

 

You spent the time between the interview and the time you were to go to the prince, in a blind panic. It was a testament to how powerful this elf was that, after he left the room, you were simply told to leave the Master's sight. But now you faced an unknown, possibly worse, fate. How would he treat you? What would he expect of you? All these questions circled in your mind as you tried to work the knots from your hair and remove the worst of the soot from your face and neck. Looking in the mirror you decided there was nothing to be done about your torn clothing and extremely thin frame. You had not been fed properly since you were brought to Laketown.

 

The time came for you to present yourself to the prince. You could feel your heartbeat in your throat and your mouth was dry as you made your way to the only guest chamber in the house. Hesitantly, you reached out your hand to knock, but before your knuckles could make contact with the wood, a voice from within bade you enter.

 

As you opened the door, the smell of freshly prepared food assailed your senses and funneled all your focus to the sharp ache of hunger in your belly. The table was laden with food. The pitchers filled with wine. The prince stood at the far end of the table, a scowl on his handsome face. Unease filled you.

 

“Is there something the matter, my Lord?”, you asked quietly. You knew the damage an angry man could do.

 

“Come here.”, came the reply.

 

You walked towards him, apprehension building in your chest. When you reached him you paused, awaiting his next command. You did not know what to expect from this young prince. What chance did you stand against someone the Master himself was afraid to even inconvenience. The possibilities of what he might want from you rolled through your mind, tying your stomach into knots.

 

He moved so that he stood behind the chair at the head of the table and pulled it out.

 

“Sit down.”, he commanded. You obeyed, unsure of what would happen next. You thought perhaps he might command you to remove your shirt as the Master had sometimes done to remind you that you hadn't the normal human rights, that you had, in fact, no rights at all. But this young monarch surprised you for he did none of those things. Instead, he took the seat next to yours and began filling your goblet with wine and your plate with the choicest morsels on the table. You looked at him, unable to conceal your appalled expression. He saw, but only said, “You do not eat enough.”

 

You saw though, that his expression had softened.

 

“Eat.”, he said.

 

The rest of the meal continued thus. Him feeding you the best pieces of meat and encouraging you to enjoy your wine. He only ate when you protested that you could eat no more.

 

When it was over, you stood to begin clearing the plates, but he stopped you with a firm, yet gentle, grip on your wrist.

 

“No,” he said, “tonight, I serve you.” His tone brooked no argument. You were left to contemplate his strange directive in stunned silence.

 

When he was finished pushing the serving trays out into the hall, he motioned you over to a large bath that had just been filled. You assumed he would want you to wash him.

 

“Take off your clothes,” at his words you felt the familiar mix of fear and humiliation that always accompanied what was sure to follow... “and get into the tub.”

 

It took a few moments for his words to register. “M-m-my lord?”

 

But there was no reply. So you quickly stripped and got in. The warm water was scented. It was heavenly. You were glad that you were already clean and wouldn't ruin this lovely bath.

 

“Are you in?”

 

Glancing at him, perplexed, you realize his back was turned to you the whole time. He did not see you.

 

“Yes, I am.”

 

Turning towards you, he walks to where you are and kneels at the edge of the tub. He asks for your right leg and you give it to him. He begins to lather your foot and ankle and massages your calves just up to your knee before repeating the process, first on your other leg, then on both of your arms, always careful not to touch you inappropriately. A strange emotion builds in your chest, tightening it, restricting your breathing. No one has taken such care with you since you were taken captive.

 

When he begins to wash your back you can no longer contain yourself and your emotions come rushing to the surface in great heaving sobs that leave you gasping for air as all the tears you have held inside come gushing out. He pauses.

 

“Why do you cry so little one?” You sense that he knows why, but is giving you an opportunity to express yourself as you never have had.

 

“Why are you doing this?”, you ask in a broken whisper.

 

At this he shrugged, “I am an elf, and elves bring healing where they can. When you first appeared, in the parlor you lay there as a little crumpled flower. I knew I had to take you, and nurture you, and make you whole again. Cry all you will _melamin_ , for tonight there is no one to hear you but me, and I will listen and I will care.”

 

“B-but h-how can you care, when you don't know m-me?”

 

“I don't know everything about you, that is true. But my soul knows yours. I recognize in you a strength that is rare and precious. I do not know all you have suffered, but know this. Tonight, you are important and your words have impact. If you say no, I will obey. If you ask something of me I will not gainsay you. And, if you allow me to, I will buy you on the morrow and take you where you can be free.”

 

You do not know how to respond to such a speech, so you remain silent. He brushes a strand of hair off your face and tucks it behind your ear.

 

“Do not question the good that comes your way, _melamin_ , just accept it as your due for who you are inside.”

 

What was that he had called you?

 

“What does melam”--

 

Your question was cut off by the gentle pressure of his lips on yours. No one had ever kissed you before. Not like this. This was warm and comforting. You sighed and he wrapped his arms around you and lifted you from the bath. Laying you down on the bed, he moved to cover you with the sheet. He lay down beside you, not so close that he was threatening, but close enough that he would be there should you need him.

 

As you drifted to sleep, you heard his voice in your ear. “Sleep, _melamin_. Sleep, my love."

 


End file.
